Will o' the Wastes
by Abozzaire
Summary: After a series of events that leave her sitting in a slave pen, Tennpenny Tower mechanic, Livia, is shocked by the kindness of the man rescuing her out of a hard labor sentence in the Pitt. She is shocked still when she discovers that this mysterious stranger is no one other than the Lone Wanderer himself. Lone Wanderer/OFC. M for language (so far).
1. I Don't Like Slavers

From behind the rusty bars of a chain-link fence, she watched. Valerie saw the way _he _had walked up, shaking hands with the Leader. The way he'd exchanged polite smiles with each of the nearby slavers, the way he had spared only a glance for those of us so unfortunately trapped behind the fence.

"You lookin' to buy?" The Leader said, gesturing to the slave pen. She ignored him, letting herself focus on the newcomer. He had kind eyes, despite his apparent openness to slavery.

If he bought her, Val figured, she'd at least make a nice place for herself as a bedwarmer. He didn't look like a beater. Then again, if he was here to buy a slave, he likely wasn't looking for a bedwarmer. This slave outpost, on the northernmost plains of the wasteland, was the last stop before the Pitt. She'd heard of the Pitt before, heard rumors and talk from the others. She'd heard from one man – now bleeding like a stuck pig all over the ruined mattress in the middle of their pen – that the Pitt was so full of disease that they only sent the most unwanted slaves there.

"Mm." the newcomer made a noncommittal noise. "Mind if she take a look around?"

"Certainly!" the Leader enthused with his greasy eastern accent. He made Val sick, he sounded like an old raider.

The new man sauntered over to the pen where she stood, her grubby fingers wrapped around the links. Instead of heading for Val, he made a pass around the entire circumference of the pen, taking in each of the slaves. There wasn't much to see in her opinion—only a dead or dying man on a mattress, another who was too sick to move, and herself. Not that she was bragging. With a filthy mop of hair that barely reached her chin and a crisscross of tiny shrapnel scares all over her body, Val knew that she wasn't much to look at.

Finally, he made his way all the way back to Val. He stood there, right on front of her, looking down at her front and center. He had a crooked and hooked nose that had obviously been broken more than once, his only really notable feature. Behind the nose was a young man with thin lips, round eyes, and a scraggle of brown facial hair. Those round eyes peered down into hers, inspecting her. He glanced back at the slavers, who had gone back to doing their thing.

Leaning in closer, he said in a whisper, "Can you fight?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "N-not really," she stammered.

He grunted. "Not a lot of help you are." After another glance back he said, "Okay, stay low." A boyish grin had spread over his face. With that, he turned on his heels and shot the nearest raider in the face with a pistol she hadn't even seen him draw.

Val threw herself back as soon as she realized exactly what was going on. She scampered into the corner, hiding behind a rusted shopping cart and the sick man. Under the circumstances, she decided, it wasn't such a bad thing to do. From her post, she saw as the man rolled behind an old train car, poking his head out only to take a shot. She closed her eyes and covered her ears and just waited.

After several minutes there was silence except for the groans of the sick man and the pants of someone else. After a few more minutes, she heard a chains jangling and the click of a lock being opened. Hesitantly, she opened one brown eye at a time. The new man was staring down at her again, a sloppy grin on his face.

"What?" She snapped.

The grin fell away. "I don't know," he said, "That was just exciting."

"Oh." She thought for a minute, getting to her feet and brushing off the tattered rags the slavers had given her to wear. "What now?"

"What do you mean? I killed them didn't I?"

"Well," she said, slightly frustrated, "Well, yeah. But what are you gonna do with us now?"

The grin came over his face again, showing off teeth that were whiter than any she had ever seen. "You're free," he exclaimed. "You can do whatever you want. You don't even have those dumb collars to worry about."

Val hadn't been enslaved long enough to really thirst for her freedom the same way some of the other slaves she had met did. They'd caught her less than a week ago just outside Tenpenny Tower, and she'd spent her week fearing for her virginity more than anything else. They kept taking women and using them up. She guessed she wasn't pretty enough though, 'cause she had been spared.

"He needs a stimpak or something." She said, finally. She gestured to the sick guy, who groaned. "And I'm pretty sure the other one is dead." Those words in her mouth tasted awfully bitter. A week ago, she realized, death wouldn't have been something she would so readily accept. Now… now it felt like a relief to be able to announce him dead. No more wondering, at least.

"Right," said the man, the smile dropping from his face like a dead fly. He walked over the sick man, swinging his backpack to his front and rummaging around in it as he did so. He injected a stimpak directly into the guy's chest, something I'd only ever seen doctors do. "This should take effect really fast, okay?" He said, giving him a pat. "And here is some water too. It's got some rads, but it's all I've got. We'll wait around until you're all better." He promised at last. The sick man mumbled gratefully and took the water, laying back catatonically and letting it pour into his open mouth.

"What's your name?" she asked weakly. In all her years in the wastes, she had never, _ever, _seen someone act so unconditionally kind.

He grinned, "I knew you'd warm up to me."

she blinked, "I never—"

"Lawrence." He interrupted. "It's Lawrence. And yours?"

"Val," she murmured.

"Are you hurt, Val?"

The question caught her off guard, though she supposed it shouldn't have. After watching him free the slaves then treat her pen mate, she should have expected it. Nevertheless, automatically she said, "no."

He moved a little closer. It was hard not to notice how very tall and masculine he was, with his indistinct grey combat armor strapped around his lean body. Val looked down, hopping her hair somehow covered the blush she could feel heating up her messy face.

"Okay. Well," he said with a mischievous grin, "when you change your mind, this doctor will be here."

She looked up in exasperation. "You're a doctor, too?" This man, this Lawrence, was unbelievable—a seemingly perfect shot, goody-two-shoes, and doctor to boot. What other skills did he have?

"Yes ma'am. Well, really more of a medic. I won't pull off surgery, but for basic things I'm your man."

Never in her life had she met someone who would so much as raise a finger for her, and she lived among some of the most well-off people in the entire wasteland. This guy was in such stark contrast with the selfish inhabitants of Tenpenny Tower that it boggled her mind.

Val sighed. "Alright," she said. "I've only got a few cuts and bruises, nothing bad. Why did you do this?" She asked, her voice sounding more tired than she would have liked. Truth was that she _was _tired. The slavers had them on the move all day, every day, until they got to the northern stop, and during the nights she was too afraid to sleep. The bastards had already taken the other girl in the pens with her and done god-knows-what with her. Val didn't want to be raped and left for dead like that; she knew that for damn sure.

He watched her for a moment, apparently sobering up. "I don't like slavery." He said simply. "And I guess I like to make a point of letting everyone know." His voice was quiet, a little dangerous even.

All she could say was, "oh." It was such a modest, obvious response. Val was taken aback. She had assumed he was being paid by some anti-slavery organization or just wanted their stuff. At first, she had even thought that he simply didn't want to have to pay for his own slave. "What are you doing up here?" She bit her tongue after asking the question, inwardly cursing. _What the hell am I doing?_ Damn her for it, but she just wanted to know so much more about this mysterious stranger.

"I'm headed to GNR."

"That's in DC," she said, furrowing her brows. "South."

He gave her that boyish grin again. "Yeah, I guess she got a little bit sidetracked." He glanced over at the sick man, who had since improved quite a bit. He was sitting up without support and looking a good deal healthier. The green tinge around his lips and eyes was gone, too. "How are you doing?" Lawrence asked him.

"Better." He grunted. "I think I'm gonna go, if you're real about lettin' us."

"Right," said Lawrence. "Do you need anything? I can give you some food, at least."

"Yeah," said the man, greedily taking the nonperishables that Lawrence offered. Without even a thank you, he walked away to the west, scavenging a shotgun off a dead slaver. She didn't blame him; if she had been in her right mind she would have done the same. Kindness such as Lawrence's shouldn't be taken for granted in the Wastes, and maybe shouldn't be accepted for too long lest the wrong idea be gotten.

Lawrence got up, kicking a pebble. Val watched as he picked through the bodies of the dead slavers, presumably looking for things he could use. He was fascinating, she decided. Absolutely fascinating.

She bit her own tongue. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Val whispered to herself.

"What was that?" He called from several yards away. He was hunched over a strongbox with a bobby pin delicately clasped in one hand. _Are you kidding? S_he thought. _He picks locks too? _With a click, the box popped open. "Oh this is good!" He yelled, seemingly forgetting that she had ever spoken. "Good for you."

Forcing reservation, she picked her way over to him. Damn her, but it was so hard not to trust him—what with his honest smile and the actions he'd already committed.

He stood, turning to her with a crumpled ball of clothing in his arms. "You can wear this. It's clean." He handed her the bundle, smiling expectantly.

Val took it, shaking it so that she could hold it up for inspection. A pair of tan cargo pants fell to the ground and she was left holding a long leather coat with sleeves that had been torn off at the shoulder. It was small, even, her size.

She looked up, seeing that Lawrence had plopped his rucksack on the ground and was rummaging through it again. After some tugging and a few grunts, he pulled out a dark blue t-shirt with three large yellow numbers printed across the back.

_Oh, _she thought, _fuck. _


	2. Wasteland Gold

**Note: **So, I actually changed the POV from first to third, because I am just so much more comfortable writing in third. So, sorry if that disappoints. Also, thank you for the review on my first chapter, it means a lot that someone read it!

* * *

"Thanks," She said, a little numbed, taking his proffered vault 101 shirt.

"It'll be big," He warned with a wink, "But at least you'll be clothed."

"Right." Val couldn't believe it. She had heard talk of him around Tenpenny Tower, but never thought she would meet him. He was the one that was doing research for that lady in Megaton, writing that stupid book. He was the one that had sent Mr. Burke back to the tower. He was the one who'd saved Grayditch. Tenpenny had started calling him the protector of the Wastes.

"Something wrong?" Lawrence asked, oblivious to her state of shock at his identity. A smug smile twitched at his lips—he was obviously still pleased with himself.

Val stared at him with exasperation, knowing her face reflected her internal dismay. He was so simple, so childish, and so immune to the horrors of the Wasteland. So fucking lucky to be alive. "You're the vault kid." She finally choked out.

"Oh, yeah. Guess so."

"They're never going to let me back in now. They fucking hate you."

He cocked his head to the side, looking at her intuitively. "I'm sorry. Who?"

"Tenpenny. I do repairs and stuff for him." She said, fingering her slave rags. "I'm fucked. He hates you." Val felt her stomach flip-flop, tears only minutes away. She hated how fucking pathetic she was, she had always hated it. Other girls could shoot, could fight, could do _something_. All Val felt she could do was cry. _That's what they told me. _

Lawrence let out a pent up breath and watched her. His face was almost fearful. "It'll be okay." He said, obviously not knowing what the appropriate response was. "I mean, you can stay with me. I wasn't gonna just leave you or anything. Hey, it's okay."

A tear rolled down her burning face, revealing pale skin under the grime. "They've got th-the Talon C-company after you and ever-everything. I c-can't." She covered her face, instinctually trying to hide her perceived weakness.

"You know what," he said, "It's okay. You need to calm down." His tone was firm but not cruel. Val peered at him from between her fingers as he walked over to her. He wrapped two heavy arms around her body, pulling her against him. She stiffened. This wasn't natural, this embrace. Never, ever, in her life had she been embraced by a man unless he was drunk and trying to get between her thighs. "You're fine," he continued, "I can handle anything those assholes throw at me, I promise. You're better off with me, see? Just, _shh._"

She sniffed, wiping her nose on the bottom of her tattered skirt. To Val's embarrassment, she realized only after that this revealed her filthy undergarments and thighs. She blushed.

"Why don't you change," He suggested abruptly. "That excuse for an outfit can't be warm."

"Yeah," She mumbled. Val looked up at him, chewing her lower lip. "I'm sorry, that was pathetic."

"Don't worry about." He gave her a look that dismissed all further inhibitions, and then turned around with a gesture telling her to hurry up and change.

She stared at the shoulder plates of his combat armor for a moment. He was so polite, were all vault dwellers like this? She sighed, the noise only a little shaky, and peeled off her disgusting clothes. Val even stripped off her grimy panties, figuring the cargos of the new outfit would be cleaner. The very last thing she needed was an infection _there. _She pulled on the pants, belting them with a strip of cloth already tied around the waist. They were rather baggy, but she didn't mind. She was happy to be in pants again after that stupid and revealing slave outfit. Next Val pulled Lawrence's shirt over her head, wishing she had a bra to wear in between. She sighed, _what I wouldn't do right now for a good, clean bra_. His shirt smelled good, not clean but a good musky scent. She pulled on the leather vest last, settling into it before buttoning the middle two buttons.

"Thank you." Val said. She was thankfully over her fit, at least for now.

"You're welcome." She didn't think he needed to ask what for, he just sort of knew. "Looks good," he said, after turning around and giving her the once over. "Now all you need are some boots. One of these guys ought to have a pair that'll fit you. I'm going to check out the shack for ammo and stuff." He said.

She nodded, already searching around for a smaller sized slaver. She knew there were a few; there was even a man shorter than herself. Perhaps his feet were similar size. Lawrence ducked into the shack while she paced over to the small man and peeled off his boots. They were stained with blood, but sturdy. _What isn't bloody out here? _Val wondered. She pulled them onto her feet, lacing them up tight so that the slightly larger size wouldn't matter too much, and then tucked her cargos into the boots. She trotted over to the shack, testing out her new footwear.

Lawrence popped out just as Val was about to go in, almost running into her. He abruptly took a step back, for the first time looking a bit flustered. "You found some shoes?" He asked, brushing his hair back with a restless hand.

"Yep," said Val, looking down at her tan combat boots. She had to resist the urge to strike a pose.

"Great. We're going to the GNR station, like I said before." She couldn't help but enjoy the second once over he gave her, this time much slower and much more appreciative.

Val blinked, collecting her errant thoughts. "Uhm, do you really want me to come with?" She bit her lip. _Please say yes. _

"Sure thing," he chirped. "I am certainly not gonna just leave you." Cocking his head to the side, he added hastily, "of course, if you want, I can escort you somewhere."

His sudden change in tone startled her. "Escort…" She repeated, smiling a little to herself. Rich, Tenpenny Tower residents had escorts to take them places, not grungy, ugly mechanics like her. _No harm in dreaming, _she figured. Shaking her head, Val said, "I'll just stick with you." _Until you ditch me somewhere, _she added silently. She resigned to wait.

He nodded and started to saunter off, apparently excessively pleased with himself. Val resisted the urge to roll her eyes but was unable to suppress her grin. He was just so ridiculous. She walked behind him for several minutes, thinking instead of speaking. She, Valerie the downtrodden mechanic, was actually travelling with the Lone Wanderer! It was exciting, even though she had her doubts. _Doubts like what the fuck can I do for him? _The smile slipped off her face and this time she had to hold back a groan. The only skills she had were in repairs and bombs, and neither were too useful in general life in the wastes.

"Oh, just a sec." Lawrence said, turning around to face her. "I forgot to get you a gun."

"I can't shoot," she said, ashamed.

"Right, hold that thought. I'll teach you when it's safe. What can you do?" The earnesty in his eyes drew an answer out of her like nothing else could.

"I can repair stuff." She said. "And I'm good with bombs."

A grin lit up his face and he reached out and gave her a hard pat on the arm. She started, shying away from the contact. "No," he said, "I'm sorry, no, that's great! I'm shit when it comes to repairs, and bombs are fucking cool, Val." After another big grin to lure her out of her shell, he added, "tonight could you fix up my stuff? I've got some scrap metal and abraxo."

Val blinked. "I can do that. If you really want."

"I want." He said, giving her one last brilliant smile before turning back to the trail ahead. "I want to go to Megaton first. I need to unload some stuff on Moira. Then it's off to GNR for real."

"For real." Val intoned, barely above a whisper. She followed in his dusty footprints, south, towards Megaton.

0-0-0-0

"Have yourself a nice visit, part-ner."

Val jumped, skittering toward Lawrence who said, laughing, "What, the protectron scare you?"

"I just didn't see him," she snapped. She paid more attention after that, making sure to peek into the crevices of the metal walls of Megaton.

She followed Lawrence, hardly registering where they were going. Looking around, she noticed with a little regret that Megaton was a real dump compared to Tenpenny Tower. She had hoped that the second most popular town in the Wasteland would be better.

She glanced back at Lawrence, who was walking in front of her confidently. It had taken them two days to reach Megaton, two days of the dust and the wind and the wonderful openness of the Wasteland. Two days of Lawrence. Her initial assumption of his kindness had only been proven, over and over again, during their trip. From healing a wild dog crippled from a fall to allowing an old woman to delay them so she could reminisce about her son, who Lawrence, apparently, was very much alike.

During their single night together, Lawrence had shown her nothing but respect. _I can't believe I was even worried, _she grumbled to herself. He had given up his sleeping bag to her, offered to keep watch all night, and thanked her gratuitously for the cleaning and simple repairs she'd given his weapons. And if his pure niceness wasn't enough, his earnest good looks and rugged knowledge of the Wasteland ensured that she never, ever, wanted to leave this man.

Val sighed. She knew it was just a matter of time before he ditched her somewhere. If it wasn't at Megaton that day, it would happen later down the road. That's what always seemed to happen to her—ditched on the side of the road like pregnant dog.

She shook her head, Lawrence's measured voice pulling her out of her reverie. "Nice to see you again, Simms," he said warmly, reaching out to shake the other man's hand.

This new man looked a little goofy, Val decided. He was wearing an oversized sheriff's hat, like in the old cowboy books, and a silver star on his chest. His dark skin spoke of a life in the Wastes, not tucked away in a Tenpenny Tower cubicle. She decided she liked him before he even opened his mouth.

"You too, 101." The sheriff's voice was welcoming and honest, thick with a cowboy accent. _Goofy. _He glanced up at her, giving her a wink with one tired eye. "Seems like you bring in more Wasteland gold every time you come in here…. Though, I'd say this one ain't too shiny on account of the dirt."

Lawrence laughed, a noise Val found entirely too pleasing for her liking. "I guess we will have to wait until she decides to bathe to find out just how shiny, huh?" He glanced back at her with a conspiratorial wink. "Anyway, I'm off to empty my load in Moira's shop." He patted the sheriff on the back, who was grumbling something about a Craterside Supply

Val followed him, a little unsure. "What do you want me to do?" She asked. The way he'd said _empty my load _made her wary. Could he possibly mean….?

"Tag along if you like. Or you could explore around a little, you might like that," he said, turning to her and leaning on the frail pipe railing. "The store is just up there, see?" He pointed to an indistinct metal shack. "That's where I'll be."

Val was left to watch him go, her question still not answered. She sighed, hoping that this wasn't his way of leaving her. She was having the best time of her life, traveling around with this knight in shining armor. Well, more like dusty combat armor.

Slowly, she wandered down toward the center of Megaton, her eye on the giant nuclear warhead parked in a pool of radiation. _That looks unhealthy; I wonder if it's active? _As she got closer, a disturbing new development took shape. There was a man in filthy robes standing ankle deep in the water, iridescent green waves rippling out with his every movement. Dark shadows hung under his eyes and a tinge of green surrounded his mouth.

"Give your bodies to Atom, my friends. Release yourself to his power, feel his Glow and be Divided." He said, presumably to the few onlookers and passersby. Val moved closer, considerably more cautious now. This man sounded like a lunatic, a fucking lunatic. "Each of us shall give birth to a billion stars formed from the mass of our wretched and filthy bodies." She snorted, barely covering it with a hand. That, she decided, sounded like a terrible idea. "What's this?" He continued. "A newcomer. Come forth and drink the waters of the Glow." He said, looking directly at her.

"Uh, no thank you." Val said, realizing that her concealed snort had not been concealed at all.

"This ancient weapon of war may be your Salvation." He was almost yelling at her then, a tinge of irritation hiding behind his forced lofty voice. "It is the very symbol of Atom's glory!"

"Right." Val muttered. An idea was forming in her mind, one she wondered if she could get away with. She wanted rather badly to get into the control panel she spotted on the side of the warhead, just to see if it was active or not. She'd never tampered with any real prewar dinosaurs like this one, and she was deathly curious. "Right," she said, projecting her voice a little louder.

"Give your body to Atom, my friend," said the lunatic, smiling. "Confessor Cromwell will guide you in your Division."

"Thanks," said Val, stepping forward. There was no way in hell she was going to drink the fucking water, but maybe this Confessor would be enough of a nutter to think she was trying to get touchy with his Atom when she opened up the panel. She stepped into the water, feeling the tingling sensations she'd learned to associate with moderate levels of radiation.

"Your suffering shall exist no longer; it shall be washed away in Atom's Glow." Professed the Confessor Cromwell. Val ignored him, now almost knee deep in irradiated water. The panel was chest height, perfect for her to be able to conceal what she was doing to him. After positioning her body between the Confessor - who had not relented in his preaching - and the panel, she pried it open. With expert hands, she picked through the configuration of wires. Their colored coatings had long since rotted away, leaving only ill-defined wiring behind. She eyed the wires for several minutes, standing there in that irradiate water, her head slightly tilted to one side. To any onlooker, she must have seemed just as insane as Confessor Cromwell.

To Lucas Simms, who she heard calling after her only a moment later, she did. "Hey, wastelander, get out of there!" He shouted, his friendly exterior replaced by a frightened and panicked one.

"No, just wait," she said, lifting a single finger in a gesture of silence. If he would just let her think for a moment, she would know which wire to cut. This thing was definitely active, a ticking time bomb. The sheriff had to know how dangerous it was, didn't he? Just a little more corrosion, or a different configuration of the wires by someone less bent on good than herself, would blow Megaton right off the face of this earth.

"Get out of there," Simms repeated.

"She is being Divided by the almighty," Confessor Cromwell said in his airy tone, positioning himself between Val and Simms.

_ What a fucking idiot, _Val thought as she tuned both men out. The Confessor had yet to glance back at her for which she was grateful but also a little disappointed. Could a human being really be this… inane?

Either way the distraction he created, what with carrying on about the bomb in the way he did, bought her some time. After a few more seconds of deliberation, Val grabbed the snips she'd picked up along the way to Megaton, squeezed her eyes shut, and cut the single wire she held delicately between her thumb and forefinger.

She waited with bated breath for several seconds. The bomb had not yet exploded, which certainly was a good sign. If she had, indeed, cut the right wire the bomb would be completely inactive. If she'd cut the wrong one it would have blown. After a few more heartbeats, she took the continuing, annoying-as-hell, arguing of Simms and Confessor Cromwell to mean that she was, indeed, still alive and that she had disarmed the bomb.

"Good job, Valerie," she grumbled to herself. "You disarmed a fucking dinosaur of a nuclear warhead." She trudged her way out of the nasty water, doing a little shake once she was on dry land.

Simms spluttered, a look of complete disbelief on his face. He turned, apparently finished with the entire situation, to come face-to-face with none other than the Lone Wanderer himself, who no one had noticed arrive, come to see what all the commotion was about.

"Lawrence," Simms gasped. "You- you startled me."

"What's going on here?" Lawrence asked, his tone cool. Val watched him carefully. Since entering civilized areas, she'd noticed, his demeanor had changed. The goofy boy who had saved her from slavers had vanished, only to be replaced by what she considered a façade of collectedness he put on for the world.

Before Simms could respond, Val walked up and muttered, "I kind of disarmed the bomb."

Simms and Lawrence both looked at her, as well as Cromwell from afar. She hoped he couldn't hear or wasn't really listening, she'd feel bad for destroying his god.

"Are you certain?" Lawrence finally asked.

Val nodded twice, "Yeah."

"Well," said Simms, "I, for one, will breathe a lot easier knowing that thing is truly dead." He sighed. "I wish you had told me you knew what you were doin' before, though."

"Sorry," Val apologized. Lawrence walked over and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Simms cleared his throat. "Lawrence, you've done so much for this town and now you've brought someone in just like you, I can't get away without rewarding you both for this. How about this, instead of caps I'll give you the keys to that house. I was saving it for someone like you, either of you." He nodded to them both, smiling. In his hand, he offered up an old key.

"Thank you, Lucas," Lawrence said earnestly.

He nudged Val gently, who was still shook up over all the drama that had just occurred. "Thanks," she said quickly.

Simms nodded. "You earned it. Thank you." With one last dip of his hat, he turned and left.

Lawrence led her up a set of stairs next to some leaky pipes, then on to a balcony. Before opening the door to the house, he turned to her and said, "Simms was right, I do seem to find gold out in the Wasteland. You did a good job. Thank you."

Val didn't take in much of the house once he unlocked the door. She was too busy glowing from his praise—and maybe a little bit of radiation as well.


	3. What's Brown and Stands in the Corner?

"I've wanted to do that for months," Lawrence called at her from around the corner. As soon as they had entered the house, the man had shot straight for the old, irradiated but working sink. "I just never knew how," he finished.

Val now sat on the stairs, her knees drawn up to her chest, waiting her turn. Despite his protest, Val had insisted he go first until she got her way. She was far too embarrassed to strip down for a sponge bath until he left. He, apparently, had no such inhibitions and had started undressing before she was even out of site. She had scampered, blushing like a schoolgirl, around the corner.

Still, it wasn't that she'd minded the sight of him. Under his armor he had really nice shoulders, all corded muscle and strong bones. And his chest! It was lumpier than an old radiator, the kind with ridges. He had abs like she could hardly believe, putting her soft tummy to shame. The worst part, though, was the grin he'd given her when he'd caught her staring. That was what truly sent her running.

"Really, you did everyone a favor by disarming that thing," He continued. "Don't feel bad for those Atom fucks. No one likes them."

"I didn't feel bad at all," she muttered. "He wanted me to drink that nasty water."

"Good," he chuckled.

She started; she hadn't thought he'd be able to hear the low comment over the running water. She heard the faucet shut off, and watched a moment later as he came around the corner, thankfully covered by a ragged towel. He dug around in his pack a moment, pulling out a blue vault jumpsuit. Val looked away, trying to hide the flush that came back to her cheeks as he let the towel fall away and pulled on the suit.

"It's safe to look, I'm clothed," he said, teasing.

Val turned to him again, obeying the unspoken 'look at me' order he'd given her. He had tied the jumpsuit sleeves around his waist, wearing the one-piece suit as a pair of trousers instead. On his torso he wore a simple, white t-shirt. He was lacing up black boots under the rolled up pant cuffs and humming merrily.

"Your turn," Lawrence said, giving a grand gesture towards the sink. "The radiation isn't bad." Eyeing her, he added, "Though you look like you are going to need a radaway anyway. I take it the water isn't nice?"

"Oh yeah, you should have joined me. The bomb water was great!" She said sarcastically. A second later, she clasped her hands to her mouth, realizing what she had said. She prayed he wouldn't be angry. "I'm sorry," she squeaked.

Lawrence's grin dropped off his face and was replaced by a concerned expression. "Look, Val, you need to relax."

She stared at him, wide eyed, as he got up and walked over to her. "I'm sorry," she repeated as he sunk to crouch in front of her.

"Look," he said. "You don't need to be sorry. I don't know what things were like for you before, but now it's different." He looked up at her intently. "I'm not some asshole that's gonna leave you for dead somewhere, if that was me I wouldn't have gotten you from those slavers in the first place." He sighed. "Truth is I'm not the saint you think I am. I don't run around rescuing every slave and helping old woman. But I saw you and couldn't bear to let a pretty girl go to the Pitt. I've been there and it ain't nice."

_He called me pretty. _Her insides melted like mole rat in a pool of radiation. It was hard to keep the smile off her face.

He shook his head, looking a little distressed. "I don't know where that was going. What I wanted to say was that I want you to just be yourself. You don't have to worry about insulting me; it's not going to happen. I'd rather you tell your snarky jokes than act like I'm going to beat you if you say the wrong words. Makes me feel like an asshole, you know?"

Val watched him for a moment, waiting for the battle to the death between her two gut reactions to play out. The first impulse said to just nod and accept what he said. He hadn't lied yet, had he? The second impulse said to fuck that, one doesn't just trust any old Wastelander. There was a third, mighty small impulse she had as well, one that didn't stand a change. This one said to grab his earnest face and give him a big kiss, right on the lips for being such a goddamn amazing human being.

The first and second impulses broke even and settled on a compromise. "Alright," she said, still a tad wary.

He cracked a smile of obvious relief. Val realized he had been just as nervous as she. "What's brown and stands in a corner?"

"What?" Val said, startled. The radiation coming off her must have gotten to his head.

"Come one, what's brown and stands in the corner?" He asked again. She just stared at him like he'd lost his fucking mind, something Val thought he deserved. "It's a joke, you're supposed to guess. No? You really don't know?"

"No." Val said, amused.

"A dirty ex-slave who is about to take a sponge bath in her very own house!" He said, grinning ear-to-ear as if he had just made the most intellectual statement ever. After a second he added, "The sink is in the corner."

Val blinked; once, twice, a third time. Then she let a giggle out, she couldn't help it. It was such a stupid, stupid joke. His smile widened, if that was possible.

"You laughed! Finally, you laughed. Seriously though," he said, still teasing her, "You stink. Get over there. I'll even leave while you wash." When Val gave him a questioning look, he explained, "I need to get some meds from the Doc. I'll be back in twenty minutes or so." With that, Lawrence stood and strolled out of the room, all his confidence restored.

Val took a deep breath, smiling freely now that he was gone. He had called the house _hers. _Even though Simms had given it to them both, he said it was hers. Her own house, her very own place. She certainly didn't mind having to share with Lawrence.

She got up, stretching her sore muscles, and walked over to the sink. She stripped off her clothes carefully, making sure to lay them out far away enough that they couldn't get wet, and then grabbed the sponge that Lawrence had already used. She smiled again to herself when she saw that he'd had the consideration to rinse all of his dirt off of it. She started to wash away the muck form her face, the hint of a smile still on her lips.

Lawrence got back in just under twenty minutes, exactly as he had said he would, only minutes after Val had gotten all of her clothes off. She'd hurried even, but that much grime took time to wash away. She had even been able to wash out her hair, which felt incredible.

"Okay, I got some radaway. I hope you're not afraid of needles." Lawrence called from the doorway, one hand holding a sack of meds and the other covering his eyes.

"I'm dressed," Val said, "You can look."

"You need to meds," Lawrence said, lowering his hand. He stopped abruptly, giving her a look she couldn't decipher.

"What?" She asked, trying her hide her self-consciousness. She wasn't wearing her vest, maybe her nipples were showing through the t-shirt. She glanced down, trying to be inconspicuous. Nope. The cloth covered her sufficiently. _What is he staring at, then? _

"Nothing," Lawrence said, looking flustered. He rubbed the back of his neck and scuffed his boot on the floor, kicking up dust and rust. "You're a blonde."

This time Val snapped. "What the hell?"

"I see you took my 'be yourself' talk to heart," Before she could reply, he continued, "I just couldn't tell before. It caught me off guard. It's nice."

Val reached up and brushed back her hair, not sure whether to be pleased or creeped-out. "Thanks. I think."

"Don't mention it," Lawrence said awkwardly. He looked away for a few seconds. "Anyway, you need to have some radaway, you're practically glowing." An odd flush came over his cheeks and he turned away, seemingly unable to look at her.

"Right." Val said, unsure of herself now. Their roles seemed reversed, with him the blushing fool and her the collected one. For god's sake, she'd only washed her hair. How much of a change could it be?

"It'll take some time for it to work, too, so you should get comfortable."

"I've had radaway before," Val grumbled. She mildly resented being treated like a child by someone who'd been in the Wastes less time that she had been eighteen.

He laughed; apparently back to his normal self. "Yeah, well, I'm the doctor so sit down." He pointed to a place against the stairs. "That way it can drip from the step and I won't have to hold it," he explained.

Val sat and waited obediently as he set up the radaway. When the time came to put the needle in her vein, she closed her eyes. He took hold of her forearm and ever so gently slid the needle into her vein.

"There," he announced before plopping down in front of her. His body hit the metal flooring with a heavy clunk. "You need a carpet," he noted drily.

She opened her eyes and chanced a look at him. His legs were sprawled out and his torso leaned back, supported by two thick arms. His head tilted to the side, he grinned at her. "I don't have the camps for a lamp," she said, "let alone a carpet."

"Good point. I will though," he said brightly, "Once I sell some more loot. After we get to the GNR station and back, that is."

Val faltered. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, as long as you let me sleep here too!" He said brightly. Almost as if he didn't realize he was speaking aloud, he added, "After GNR through."

Val looked at her toes, wondering if what she wanted to ask was too rude. _Well, he did tell you not to censor yourself. _She reminded herself. She took a heavy breath, and then asked, "Why are we going to the GNR station?"

He started as if he had been lost in thought. "I'm looking for my father." He said.

"Oh. Did you leave the vault with him?"

Lawrence barked out a harsh laugh. "No. Not at all. He… he left without me." Val watched him, trying to understand. "Then they attacked me. So. Here I am." He finished, feigning positivity. He looked down at his hands, which were clenched, white-knuckled, in his lap. "Here I am, fucking months later, fucking Moriarty finally fucking telling me." He got up abruptly, taking a deep breath and pacing over to the opposite wall.

Val started to say, "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No," Lawrence practically ran back to her, getting on to his knees before her. "I'm just frustrated. I'm not mad at you. It's okay."

"Oh," she said, looking down at her own lap. He was so moody. His father was obviously a touchy subject for him, but dammit, Val really wanted to know the whole picture now. Curiosity killed the cat—curiosity could've killed her twice today, first the radiation then the bomb. Should she make it a third? "Why haven't you found him yet?"

He looked at her for a moment, irritation crossing his face. "Moriarty." He grunted. "The bastard wouldn't tell me, not even after I tracked down his whore. Found out I didn't kill her, I guess. Stupid fuck, he is. Told me the only way he was telling was if I gave him three hundred goddamn caps."

"Which you did?" Val prompted.

"Took me two motherfucking months," Lawrence growled. "And all I got was 'go ask Three Dog. Fucking Three Dog." His jaw was clenched tight as where all the muscles Val could see. His body rippled with a little tremor. "I'm sorry." He said after a moment.

Val waited with baited breath, torn between worrying for her safety and worrying that he was going to cry. "You'll find him," she reassured. Even to her, the words sounded pathetic. When he didn't respond, she sighed. Opening her arms wide, because it was all she could think to do, she asked, "Do you want a hug?"

This startled him out of his reverie, forcing him to look up at her. His eyes were glossed over, as if the beginnings of tears were trying to force their way out. He nodded once, a doleful expression on the features Val had thought were so strong. She beckoned him closer, saying, "It's okay. Come on." With a shaky sigh, he inched over to her and settled his disproportionately larger body into her arms. She tried to reach all the way around him, but couldn't comfortably. She settled on resting one hand on his back and the other on his chest, which she really did try not to feel up.

They sat like that for several long moments, his face nestled into her, thankfully, clean hair. His breathing was heavy, but getting steadier by the second. Val almost regretted his quick recovery; she figured he needed to let it out.

"I should have gone right to the GNR station," Lawrence rumbled, his voice a little scratchy. Val tried to hold in a shudder—the way his chest vibrated as he spoke was almost divine.

"Why didn't you?" She asked.

"I was mad." He said, providing no further explanation. After several more minutes of what Val could only classify as cuddling, he pulled away just enough to get a good look at her. His eyes were dry now and his jaw no longer quivering. He tried on an awkward smile and said, "Some good came out of it. I found you." Before she had time to respond, he added, "And your radaway is done, we can get this needle out. Then, I think, it's time for bed. I don't know about you, but I am wiped out."

"Right," said Val.


End file.
